


A Very Lucky Man

by R_S_B



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, also brief and implied Chrisjen Avasarala/other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/pseuds/R_S_B
Summary: There are certain things Arjun has learned to tolerate.
Relationships: Arjun/Chrisjen Avasarala, Chrisjen Avasarala/Michael Iturbi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

_ Why did I marry such a great woman?  _

_ You got very lucky. Didn't you? _

Home, 02x05

* * *

The history of the human race is one of constant change. From scattered tribes gathering berries, to the first small agricultural towns, to cities, the industrial revolution, the technological revolution, and the colonization of space, humans have pushed ceaselessly forward. In the last two hundred years, humans have spread across the solar system, colonizing Mars, and the Belt, the Jovian moons. Humans have survived on the edge, pushing into places long assumed utterly inhospitable. 

But just as humans have pushed to the edges of the solar system while dreaming of recreating the Earth they had left behind, some things don’t really change. 

Mumbai was still overcrowded and humid as fuck. And powerful people still got to play by different rules. 

Chrisjen Avasarala looked out over the bay from the comfort of her climate controlled office and smiled. The voice of her aide coming in over the intercom pulled her gaze and made her frown. “Madame Governor? Your husband is on the line.” 

Chrisjen cleared her throat. “Tell him I’m in a meeting. I’ll call him back when I’m finished. And next time when I tell you not to interrupt me, don’t fucking interrupt me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” her aide replied, contrite but unperturbed. The voice of one well accustomed to Chrisjen’s manner. 

The intercom now mercifully silent, Chrisjen’s attention shifted again, gazing fondly at the head between her thighs and biting her lip. She ran her fingers through his hair, perfectly manicured nails scraping against his scalp. Hands clutched at her thighs, shoving the folds of her dress higher. 

“Chrisjen… “ he whispered. 

Her fingers tugged on his hair, pushing him back against her cunt. “Don’t stop,” she hissed.


	2. Chapter 2

When she’d started dating Arjun, she knew she really liked him when she started to feel guilty for breaking their plans because work came up. Most of her dates, it simply wasn’t something that bothered her. If she made it, wonderful, but if not, she didn’t worry about it. Inevitably, it would progress to the point that the other person would realize Chrisjen simply couldn’t commit adequately to a relationship, and things would fizzle out. But sometimes they could have some fun along the way. Arjun was starting to be something different. 

On this night, she had already canceled their date twice, and was now running considerably late. Hours late. At this point she wasn’t “late” so much as she had missed their date for a third time. And she’d been so wrapped up that she hadn’t even messaged him to cancel properly. She felt terrible about it - she’d been quite looking forward to spending some time with him again. 

But after checking her hand terminal, she knew there was no point in rushing home. There had been no messages from Arjun; nothing asking where she was, nothing asking if she would be late, nothing trying to reschedule. He’d clearly given up on her. So she resigned herself to a quiet night with a glass of wine. Maybe she could get ahead on some of her paperwork. 

When she stepped into her lavish high-rise apartment, the light was dim, the only source a light left on in the corridor to her bedroom. She didn’t remember leaving it on, but at this point in the day, she could barely remember what she’d eaten that morning, so it didn’t give her pause. She secured the door behind her and walked to the bedroom, looking forward to letting her hair down and changing out of her clothes. 

As she stepped through the doorway, she was startled to realize that there was someone in her bed. He sat on top of the duvet, leaning back against the plush headboard, with the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows, his entire concentration directed at the paper-bound book in his lap. As she watched, he held his spot in the book with a finger while he pulled his hand terminal out and made a note with his free hand. 

“Arjun!” she exclaimed in surprise. 

He looked up at the sound of her voice, giving her a soft smile. Then he looked mildly panicked. “Are you ready? Is it time? I’m sorry, I got a little distracted… “

Chrisjen ignored his questions, gently shaking her head. “What are you doing here?” she asked, bemused. 

“I was in the area so I came by a little early. Your doorman recognized me and was kind enough to let me in.”

Chrisjen chuckled, even as she thought to herself that she should make sure the doorman was fired. 

“I’m sorry,” Arjun began, “I should have called.” 

“No,” Chrisjen interrupted, “I’m sorry, I should-- You aren’t upset?”

Arjun shook his head. “Why would I be upset?”

Chrisjen’s brows drew together. “I stood you up. Our reservations were for hours ago.”

He blinked in surprise, looking out the window, the late hour only just dawning on him. He laughed. “I”m sorry, I must have gotten more distracted than I thought…” He looked up at Chrisjen and shrugged. “When you weren’t here,” he explained, “I sat down to work on my thesis, I guess I must have lost track of the time… “ 

Chrisjen chuckled again and sat down next to him on the bed. “I’m sorry-- I thought I was going to have to apologize.” She reached for his hand. “You really aren’t upset?”

Arjun took her hand in his, thumb stroking tenderly against her palm and shook his head. “No. Although I do find I am suddenly quite hungry.” He gave her a grin and Chrisjen laughed. “Would you like to order some takeout? I believe there is a fantastic Punjabi place around the corner.” 

Chrisjen shook her head in bemusement. She found herself confused but charmed by his affability. “I… sure. That sounds wonderful.” 

Arjun reached for her face and she leaned in, kissing him gently on the mouth. “I missed you,” he whispered as she pulled away. 

Chrisjen smiled and leaned back in, kissing him deeply. Arjun responded in kind, long fingers tangling in Chrisjen hair. “On the other hand,” he said, “maybe dinner can wait.” 

Distantly, Chrisjen heard his book tumble to the floor. For a moment, she hesitated, thinking they should pick it up. Then he was tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and Chrisjen quickly forgot about the fallen book.

* * *

The first time Chrisjen cheated on Arjun, if it could be called that, they weren’t married yet, hadn’t actually even - technically - discussed the exclusive nature of their relationship. 

At least, that was her excuse at the time. 

A year later, Chrisjen and Arjun were married, in a very posh and very exclusive ceremony, and they made a beautiful home together, had two children, Ashanti and Charanpal. Arjun finished his doctorate and became a professor. He took the lead in raising their children, and Chrisjen participated when she could. She made a point of being involved in their lives, but the work of a public servant was never done. There were many long nights and many trips away from home. 

Chrisjen kept her promise to be faithful to Arjun for a long time. Which isn’t to say she didn’t enjoy and even encourage a little attention. So what if she liked a little flattery? Who was going to judge her for being human?

And _maybe_ occasionally it went a little further. Just once or twice. Or maybe three times, maximum. But she didn’t let things turn into messy emotional entanglements. Ongoing relationships were a bad idea no matter how casual it was intended to be. But if she had a little fun on a business trip, that’s all it was - a little fun. It wasn’t something she brought home with her. And if Arjun ever suspected, he didn’t say anything. 

Maybe the status quo was doomed to eventually be upset, or maybe it would have continued mostly uneventfully, but for the tragic death of their son. There is no way to truly know, they would only know what _did_ happen. On what should have been an otherwise unremarkable Thursday, Charanpal Avasarala was killed with the rest of his battalion during an OPA insurgency on Callisto. 

Everything changed in the Avasarala household after that.

* * *

“This is all your fault! I hate you!” 

They’d just returned from Charanpal’s funeral and Chrisjen stood in shock in the entryway as Ashanti stormed upstairs, sobbing. Chrisjen trembled, unable to speak, her daughter’s words cutting in a way that only a child’s could. Arjun hurried after her, and Chrisjen stumbled to a bench before her knees collapsed underneath her. Tears welled in her eyes and she sobbed softly to herself. 

When Arjun came back down, alone, he assured Chrisjen “she’ll forgive you eventually.” 

Not “she just needs someone to blame,” or “I told her she shouldn’t blame you,” or “eventually she’ll understand it wasn’t your fault.” No. Just, “she’ll forgive you eventually.” 

All Chrisjen heard was “it’s your fault.”

Chrisjen didn’t say anything in response, and eventually Arjun left. 

Statistically, most marriages don’t survive the death of a child. She knew that, intellectually. One would hope that, armed with that knowledge, they could approach things in a logical and intentional way to grieve together and to preserve their relationship. But there was nothing logical or intentional about grieving a child. 

The first months were full of unrelenting grief. It took everything they had just to survive it. Chrisjen’s jealousy that Arjun had had a closer relationship with their son ate at her, her guilt over pressuring Charanpal to join the Marines haunted her, and the possibility that Arjun might have agreed, that he might believe that Chrisjen was to blame for their son’s death, kept her up at night. The wounds were too raw and fresh to discuss, the risks one would give the wrong answer too great. They talked less, kept their own counsel more and more. It was only later, as things slowly began to return to normal, that they began to realize the gulf that had grown between them. 

Then Chrisjen met someone. 

The person wasn’t actually important or particularly special. He just happened to be there in the right moment. 

They met while Chrisjen was on business out of town, purely by chance in the hotel bar. He was younger than Chrisjen, if not quite as young as Arjun, and he was tall and broad, with light skin tanned from time in the sun. His sleeves were rolled up, leaning his forearms on the bar in front of him, and his flirting flowed as natural as water. Chrisjen suspected that he would have flirted with whoever had been at the bar, but she’d enjoyed the flattery nonetheless. 

At some point she saw him glancing at her ring. “So, you are married?” 

She took a sip of scotch, pausing slightly. “I am.”

He smiled, not in the least off-put by her response. “Well then, your husband must be a very lucky man to be married to such a beautiful woman.”

Chrisjen tilted her head at him a little flirtatiously. “He is,” she agreed. 

Michael chuckled. “Well, if that’s the case, what are you doing here all alone?”

Chrisjen took another sip of scotch, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m here on business. Bureaucratic bullshit.” She smiled. “What about you? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I’m a scientist. I’m here as a guest lecturer at the University of Melbourne for a few weeks. Usually I work in Sydney.” 

“Oh?” Chrisjen thought he looked more like an American football coach than a scientist. “What are you teaching?” 

“The School of Physics is hosting a panel series debating origin hypotheses for isolated, extra-galactic fast radio bursts. The current preferred theory is that they are caused by hyperflares of magnetars. But no natural occurrence has been able to explain the timing or pattern. When you eliminate every natural explanation, you are left with the unnatural.”

Chrisjen blinked. “Unnatural,” she repeated.

“Unnatural,” he agreed. 

She slowly raised an eyebrow. 

“Aliens,” he explained.

Chrisjen snorted. “You’re fucking with me.”

Michael grinned and laughed. “I’m not, it’s true, I swear!”

“You’re sitting here and fucking telling me little green men are sending, what-- superfast radio waves at us?”

“No, that’s not-- that’s really a misconception. There is no reason to think that alien life, intelligent or otherwise, would bear any resemblance to life as we know it.” She continued to stare at him in disbelief and he continued. “There’s likewise no reason to believe that they are directing anything at us for any intentional purpose. But when you eliminate every explanation--”

“You’re left with aliens.”

He shrugged. “An alien intelligence of some sort, yes.” 

Chrisjen laughed and shook her head. “And I thought _I_ had to deal with nutjobs at work.”

Michael laughed, a rumble that started deep in his chest and grew until his whole body shook. “Ah, but I’m sure they aren’t nearly as charming and handsome as I am.” He picked up his beer and held it out in Chrisjen’s direction. She clinked her glass against his with a laugh and they both took a drink. Chrisjen emptied her glass. Not wanting to be out-done, Michael took another swig and downed the last of his. 

He held out his empty glass. “Another? My treat.”

Chrisjen hesitated and pulled her hand terminal from a hidden pocket in her sari. She sent Arjun a quick message. _I’m about to head up to my hotel room. Is it a good time to talk to you and Ashanti?_

Next to her, Michael began to check his hand terminal as well. “It’s not so late yet. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Chrisjen began, still looking at her hand terminal, “I need to…” She trailed off as she read Arjun’s reply. _Ashanti doesn’t want to speak to you. Stop pushing so hard, she needs some space._ A moment later, another message appeared. _I’ve got some stuff to finish. I’ll see you when you return._ The dismissive message was a knife to the gut. _Asshole_. She wished she were alone so that she could suffer in private, but Michael was still next to her. Chrisjen composed herself as quickly as she could, taking a breath and pushing the pain to the background. Then she looked up at Michael. 

“I would _love_ another drink.” 

She could see in his eyes that he knew something was going on, but he had the decency not to ask about it. As she sipped on her second drink, she began to feel better than she had in months. Michael was a welcome distraction, and one that always had a compliment ready. And ignoring Arjun and Ashanti made it easier for her to keep the pain in the distance. When she finished her drink, she was feeling pleasantly warm and relaxed. It was hard to tell how much was the company and how much was the alcohol. When he took her hand in his, she didn’t pull it away. 

He was stroking her palm gently with his thumb and staring into her eyes and her stomach twisted with pleasure. She knew she should pay her tab and return to her hotel room alone. “How about a nightcap?” she asked. “I’ve actually got a bottle of something special in my hotel room.” 

His mouth curled into a smile, and she could see the possibilities in his eyes. “I’d love to,” he drawled. 

* * *

His mouth tasted of the scotch they’d been drinking, smoky and hot, and it made her feel a little lightheaded. He returned the kiss hungrily, smudging her lipstick and Chrisjen gasped into his mouth. He’d been testing her interest since they’d gotten to her hotel room, moving closer to her, touching her arm, until she’d finally turned to him and demanded, “Are you going to fucking kiss me or not?” 

He had, taking her chin in his hand and guiding her towards him. When they kissed, Chrisjen didn’t think about Arjun. She didn’t think about Charanpal. All she thought about was how she wanted to get his shirt off. And get his pants open. 

Her hands began to explore his body as they kissed, running up over his chest and down his arms. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows and she scraped her fingernails over muscular forearms, making him shiver. The feel of his flesh under her fingertips was intoxicating and she wanted more. 

His hands explored her body as well, one hand coming to rest at her waist and the other palming her breast. He squeezed gently, supple flesh yielding under his fingers, and he made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. When he moved his hand away, she ached for him to return, but his hand traveled higher, fingers grazing over her collarbone and up her throat, and burying in her hair. Chrisjen pulled back from the kiss with a sigh and reached behind her to pull the pins out of her hair. Michael’s light eyes darkened with desire and he watched her intently. He kissed under her ear, getting a whiff of jasmine as he shook her hair loose. He continued to kiss lower, following the curve of her throat and down over her collarbone. 

His hand followed the edge of her sari, sliding down until he reached the swell of her breast, and squeezing gently again before sliding back up. The ache in her chest burned. 

“How the fuck do you get this thing off?” he demanded breathlessly. 

Chrisjen chuckled. “I can help with that.” 

She stood up and delicately removed each layer, tossing them over the sofa as he watched impatiently. She stopped when she was down to the sheer slip she wore under her sari. 

Michael was staring up at her reverently. “You are such a beautiful woman.” 

He stood up, taking her in his arms and kissing her passionately. As he pushed her towards the bed, their movements quickened, Chrisjen pulling his shirt out of his pants as he fumbled with the buttons. She was struggling with his belt when he pushed her back and she fell against the bed. 

He took off his belt, then his pants, and he climbed into bed after her. She reached for him and they kissed hungrily as he laid down on top of her. She pressed her thigh up between his legs, rubbing against his erection and making him groan. She reached down to rub against the bulge in his underwear with her hand and he whimpered as he tried to get the slip over her head. 

“Fuck, Chrisjen,” he groaned. He had pushed the slip up to her waist, but couldn’t get it any further without changing position. Giving up, he pulled Chrisjen’s underwear off. His fingers slid back up her inner thigh and rubbed gently at her center, pushing open her lips. 

Chrisjen’s sharp intake of breath made Michael smile, and he rubbed gently at her clit. Chrisjen whimpered. 

“Fuck,” she muttered. 

“Do you like that?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she sighed. 

He made bigger circles, then tightened back in, centering in on her clit. “Right… “

“Yes,” she gasped, “right there!”

He smiled and continued, occasionally dipping his fingers lower and teasing her entrance but not pushing all the way in. Chrisjen got wetter and wetter, squirming under his touch until she finally growled at him “Just fuck me, already!”

He grinned and settled himself between her legs, pushing into her slowly. She dug her fingers into his ass. 

“ _Fuuuck_ ,” she moaned. 

He groaned as he slid in and out of her with slow strokes. She shifted under him, lifting her legs a little and rolling her hips until she found the perfect angle. They came together more deeply, and Michael buried his face in her neck and dug his fingers into her hip as they cried out together. 

Lifting himself back up on one hand he began to thrust again, bringing their bodies together again and again. Chrisjen rested her hands on his chest and let her eyes fall shut, focusing entirely on the sensation. They rocked together, Michael’s grunts of exertion and Chrisjen’s sighs of pleasure coming together in a euphonious refrain. 

“Sit up,” she finally panted, opening her eyes. Michael sat back, low on his knees so that he could stay inside her. Her eyes fell closed again and she nodded. “Keep going,” she breathed, rocking her hips against him. He resumed his thrusts, taking her by the waist, hands tangling in the sheer fabric of her slip and pulling her down onto him. The position gave him more leverage and he thrust into her hard. Chrisjen’s sighs turned into moans and she reached down between them to stroke herself. 

“Fuck, Chrisjen,” he muttered, as she tightened around him. His thrusted sped up and Chrisjen squeezed her eyes closed, stroking herself faster. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, only partially stifling the cry she made as she came. She tightened around Michael again as her orgasm washed over her and he grunted and buried himself inside her. “Fuck!” Two short thrusts later and he was done as well. 

He rolled off of her and collapsed next to her in bed, breathing hard. His face and chest were flushed. Chrisjen was still catching her breath when she opened her mouth. “What about you?”’ she asked. 

“What about me?” he asked breathlessly. 

“Are you married?” she asked, picking back up on their first conversation. 

“Oh.” Michael hesitated for only a moment. “No. Twice divorced. I was… never particularly good at monogamy.”

“Any children?” Chrisjen found herself asking. 

He smiled at that, stroking her thigh gently as he spoke. “Twin daughters, with my first wife. What about you?”

Chrisjen didn’t answer, pulling away abruptly and getting out of bed. The grief was a heavy weight in her belly and she pulled on a robe and moved to the small bar set up along the wall. Michael raised himself up on his elbows, watching her curiously as Chrisjen began to pour herself a drink. She took a sip of scotch, enjoying the burn down the back of her throat. As the burn faded, so did the pain. She turned towards Michael. “Would you like one?”

He gave a bemused smile. “Sure.” 

She poured one for him as well and Michael sat up, sheets pooling in his lap. He took the drink from her and took a sip, then set it down on the bedside table. “Do you want to go again?”

Chrisjen nodded. “Yes.” 

Michael smiled and popped a pill into his mouth, washing it down with a swallow of scotch. Chrisjen grinned, setting her drink down on the table on her side of the bed and climbing into his lap. She leaned forward to kiss him, and his hands curled into her hair, pulling her close as they kissed. 

Chrisjen sat back, pulling her slip over her head and tossing it aside and Michael grinned and reached for her bra, hands sliding around her and unhooking it smoothly. He pulled the straps down her arms and her breasts fell free. She tossed it aside and Michael groaned beneath her, taking her breasts in his hands and kissing the tops of them gently. He fondled them tenderly and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples as Chrisjen moaned. He rubbed them again, pinching them between his fingers. It didn’t take long for the pill to kick in and Chrisjen could feel his cock growing hard again as she slid against him. When she sank down onto his erection, his hands tightened on her hips. 

“Fuck,” he moaned.

“Yes,” she gasped. “That’s the point.” 

He laughed and thrust up into her. 

* * *

If it had ended there, it might have been okay. A mistake easily forgotten. But of course it didn’t stop there. After that night, they found excuses to be together. In Chrisjen’s line of work, there were a thousand pretexts for their liaisons. She had to work late for an urgent meeting. She needed to be out of town to oversee grain shipments. It was almost too easy. 

And over time, they got cockier. Even when they were apart, they would send illicit messages; his enthusiastic responses to indecent snapshots taken on her hand terminal never failed to send a thrill up her spine. 

Arjun seemed oblivious. He was so lost in his own grief, he didn’t seem to notice that Chrisjen was pulling away. 

But nothing lasts forever. 

Chrisjen was about to get into the shower as the door of her hotel room chimed. She huffed as she pulled her robe back on and answered the door. Her eyes widened to see Michael outside. 

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “I told you I couldn’t see you today. I have meetings this afternoon, and then my family is coming to visit. _You_ can’t be here.” 

He held up a hand. “It’ll only take a second. Promise.”

Chrisjen glared, but the need to get him off her doorstep won out over her objections and she stepped back to let him in. After the door was closed, Chrisjen crossed her arms under her chest impatiently. 

“I just thought this would be best to do in person.”

She waved him on. “Get on with it. I don’t have much time.” 

“Well, I may have been a little untruthful. My ex, well… we aren’t actually divorced yet. We’ve been talking, and she wants to try to work things out.” 

Chrisjen barked out a derisive laugh. “Good luck with that.” 

Michael just gave her a shrug. “The point is, I can’t keep doing this. It needs to end.” 

Chrisjen felt an unexpected pang of loss tighten in her chest. He must have seen the stricken look on her face, because he continued, “We both knew this wasn’t going anywhere. I think we’ve both been quite clear about what this is. And what it isn’t.” 

Chrisjen couldn’t disagree and she didn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that some part of her had come to expect and rely on her time with him, despite all her intentions. And now it was gone. 

“Of course,” she agreed. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry… “ 

“I said it’s fine,” she snapped. More than anything else, she was angry at herself for how dependent she’d apparently become on this relationship. 

Michael looked at her skeptically and stepped closer to her. “I am going to miss you”, he said. “I’ve… enjoyed our time together.”

“Me too,” she whispered. Part of her was still mad at him, but he smiled and stroked her cheek and she leaned into his hand a little. His eyes wandered up and down her body, taking in her bare thighs and the curve of her breasts. His other hand came up to rest at her waist. Chrisjen looked up at him and his hand slid up her side and down over her hip and she knew he could feel that she wasn’t wearing anything under the silk robe.

He licked his lips. “What do you say about a proper goodbye?”

Chrisjen nodded and reached for him, arms closing around his neck. They kissed hungrily and his hand quickly found its way under her robe. She gasped as his fingers trailed over her ribs and groaned as he palmed her breast. 

“I thought me being here was a bad idea,” he teased. 

Chrisjen growled. “Bed. Now.”

He was buried deep inside her when the door opened again, her feet in the air over his shoulders as he thrust into her. She moaned with each thrust, _Fuck! Yes! Harder!_ and they didn’t hear anything until it was too late. 

Michael was shifting position, leaning back on his heels and pulling Chrisjen against him by her thighs. As he raised up, the doorway came into view and she saw him over Michael’s shoulder. Arjun.

“Fuck!” Chrisjen yelled. At first, Michael took her exclamation as enthusiasm, and he grinned, thrusting harder. But Chrisjen pushed him off of her. “Fuck!” she hissed again. She rolled out of bed quickly, Michael following more slowly, still confused about what was going on. 

“Fuck!” 

Chrisjen grabbed her robe from the floor and threw it on, running down the hallway after her husband. But he was already gone. “Fuck!” She slammed the panel by the door with her hand, opening the door, and looked down the hallway. All she saw was the elevator closing. “Fuck,” she muttered again. 

Michael’s voice followed her from the hallway. “Chrisjen, what--”

“You should go,” she told him. 

“Wait, wha--”

“Just go!” she yelled. Chrisjen turned and stared at the door, unsure what to do. 

_Fuck_.

* * *

She sent Arjun ten messages before he responded. 

After Michael was gone, she canceled all her meetings for the day and got dressed. She checked her hand terminal constantly, but there was no response. She wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to go looking for him, but didn’t know where to look. If they had been in Mumbai, she would have gone home to wait for him to return, but they weren’t. She wasn’t sure he’d ever come back to the hotel room. But where else did he have to go? 

She messaged him for the tenth time, _I’m so sorry, please just talk to me_ , and she finally got a response, of sorts. Arjun had turned his hand terminal off and the message couldn’t go through. 

“Shit,” she muttered. 

Giving in, Chrisjen left the room to look for her husband. She was surprised to find him quickly, sitting downstairs in the hotel bar, nursing a glass of red wine. 

“Arjun!” she whispered in surprise. He turned to look at her, then turned back to his drink wordlessly. Chrisjen quickly sat down next to him. 

“Please,” she whispered, “please just talk to me.” She glanced around nervously. It was still morning and the bar was empty but for them and the bartender, who was washing glasses on the other end of the bar. 

He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Chrisjen.” 

“Please,” she begged. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. Just… come upstairs with me. We can talk about this. In private.” 

Arjun continued to look straight ahead, and he took another sip of wine. Getting up from his seat, he caught the attention of the bartender. “She’s paying.” Then he walked away. 

“Arjun!” she hissed. But he didn’t turn back. 

Turning back to the bar, she picked up his glass and finished off the last of his wine. The bartender appeared in front of her.  
  
“Another?”

Chrisjen sighed. 

* * *

When she returned home that night, Arjun was in the kitchen, making tea. Despite having rehearsed her apology repeatedly the entire way home, she hesitated in the doorway, all her words suddenly gone. 

Arjun spoke without turning around. “Something came up and Ashtanti had to stay at University. Since I wasn’t waiting for her, I figured I’d go up early. Surprise you.”

Chrisjen winced, chest tightening painfully. “I’m sorry.” 

He poured honey into his tea, stirred it in, and set the spoon back down on the counter with a clink. Finally, he turned to look at his wife. “Is that it? You are sorry?”

Her chin trembled. “It’s the only thing that matters.” 

Arjun’s hands clenched tightly around the mug. “How can you just act like this is some normal disagreement?” he demanded, voice rising. “How can you be calm about this?” 

Chrisjen’s face twisted in pain, eyes welling with tears. “It didn’t mean anything, I love you, Arjun--”

“You don’t get to decide that, Chrisjen!” he yelled, slamming the mug down. He aimed poorly and it hit on the edge of the counter, shattering the mug. Chrisjen flinched and she didn’t breathe, waiting for Arjun to do something. She watched as he took a trembling breath and looked at the mug fragment in his hand. He threw it to the floor with a clatter and stormed out of the kitchen. 

“Wait!” Chrisjen yelled after him, but he ignored her. There was nothing to be done but to follow after him, so that’s what she did. She expected him to go to their bedroom, but he didn’t. Instead, she found him in his office. The only room in their home that had ever really been his. 

The room was filled floor-to-ceiling with books, and Arjun stood by the shelves, hurriedly selecting and tossing books into piles on the desk. 

Chrisjen shook her head in the doorway. “Wha-- what are you doing?”

Arjun paused briefly, mouth working for a moment without speaking. “I’m leaving,” he finally said. It looked like it had caused him physical pain to say it. 

“No, no, no,” Chrisjen insisted, running in. “You can’t just _leave--_ ”

Arjun turned away from her, raising his hand to block his face. “Just leave me alone! I can’t-- I can’t look at your right now. It hurts too much.” 

Chrisjen moved forward hesitantly. “Arjun,” she cooed, “I’m so, so sorry, please if you would just let me explain--” She reached gently for his arm and he shrugged her off. 

“There is nothing to explain!” he yelled, half turning towards her, voice rising with each word and tossing books to the floor. “I saw…” His face contorted in pain. “I saw what I needed to.”

“But it didn’t mean anything!” Chrisjen insisted. “I love you, Arjun, I always will!” 

He pulled another book off the shelf and stared at it for a moment before throwing it in the trash with a sneer. “How many times did it happen, Chrisjen?” Arjun demanded. “How long?” 

Chrisjen’s hesitation was enough. Arjun knocked a half-full shelf of books to the floor in anger and Chrisjen winced. “Please, just sit down and talk to me. Calmly. _Please_.” 

His hand curled into a fist. “No!” he yelled, “Don’t say it, Chrisjen!” He unclenched his fist, pointing an angry finger at her. “Don’t you dare talk me out of my anger, not for this.” 

Chrisjen tried a different tactic. “You are right. And all of your anger is completely justified, but please--”

Arjun cut her off. “No! _No!_ I refuse to engage with you on this. I’m leaving.” Then he grabbed a bag from a desk drawer and began shoving books in. Chrisjen collapsed into a chair and began to sob. 

Arjun did his best to ignore her. “Once I’ve collected my things, I’ll be gone. I’ll stay with my parents, until… ” He trailed off and shook his head. 

Chrisjen wiped at her eyes. “Don’t leave, Arjun,” she pled, voice soft and low, “don’t do that to our family. We can’t let one mistake ruin everything we’ve built.” She reached for his hand and he grudgingly let her take it. “Don’t leave. I made a terrible, terrible mistake. But that’s all it was. It won’t happen again. I promise.” 

Arjun shook his head. “I need to take a walk.” He left the room and Chrisjen didn’t stop him. He left the bag on the desk. Chrisjen wiped at her eyes again, smearing mascara and eyeliner on the back of her hand. Her gaze slowly focused on the book he had tossed into the trash. She pulled the book out of the trash and opened it. It was well worn, and it automatically opened to a page in the middle, as it had countless times in the past.

* * *

She forced herself to wait for him to return, although much of that time was spent convinced that he wasn’t coming back. But an hour and a half later he did return. The front door opened with a gentle gust of wind and she heard the soft shuffling of him hanging his jacket and removing his shoes in the entryway. She held her breath as she waited to see if he would come to their bedroom. He came in quietly, pushing the door open slowly and peeking in. Maybe he’d hoped she would be asleep. Or that she wouldn’t be there at all. But when he came in, she was propped up against the pillows with the book in her lap. 

Her lip trembled and she looked at Arjun. He looked away. “Do you remember this?” she asked softly, even though they both already knew the answer.

“I do,” he managed. 

Chrisjen smiled sadly down at the page, cradling the book gently. She began to read, “The minute I heard my first love story,” she read, “I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere--”

“They’re in each other all along,” he finished. 

Both fell silent. Finally, Chrisjen spoke again. “I’ll never forget the first time you read that to me.” 

“It was when I proposed,” he whispered. 

“Yes,” she whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips. She looked up hesitantly and their eyes met again. Arjun was fighting tears. She hoped there was still love in those tears. She reached for his hand and he stepped forward, taking it hesitantly. She stroked his palm gently. “They say ‘the weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.’ Can you forgive me?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.” Chrisjen held her tongue, letting his words hang between them with their hands. 

He turned and walked to the bathroom. She heard him going through his usual bedtime rituals and she turned off the light, rolling over away from the door. When he was done, the last shaft of light from the bathroom disappeared and he padded quietly to the bed. She pretended to be asleep and Arjun climbed in next to her. He didn’t reach for her like he usually would. 

But he was still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.  
> \- Rumi, 13th century Sufi poet
> 
> The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.  
> \- Mahatma Gandhi


	3. Chapter 3

Arjun hated himself for returning. The rage still burned inside him, but after an hour of angrily wandering through the woods behind their home, what else was he supposed to do? Where would he go? 

So he’d returned. 

He knew now that this hadn’t been the first time. Maybe he’d always known, deep down. He’d certainly suspected. There had been plenty of hints, if no confirmation. But he’d run from the truth, because the consequences of that truth had been too much to bear. He’d vowed to himself that if he ever found it that it was true - if he knew for  _ certain _ \- then he would leave immediately. But it had never been confirmed and he’d kept his head happily buried in the sand. 

Until now. 

Chrisjen had been the center of his life for so long he couldn’t imagine life without her. After everything they’d built together, everything he’d done for her, everything he’d sacrificed for their marriage and her career, her betrayal was like a knife in the gut. 

But instead of leaving, instead of doing the thing he’d always vowed he’d do, he’d shuffled pitifully back to their bedroom. Chrisjen was waiting for him, and of course she’d somehow turned things around on him perfectly. 

_ The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. _

_ Can you forgive me? _

He hadn’t answered. But then he’d gotten back in bed with her. As though she hadn’t just betrayed him. As though he hadn’t watched her scream another man’s name that very morning. As though she hadn’t hurt him. 

So maybe in a way, he had. 

* * *

After that, things were hard for a long time, although it wasn’t always clear how to parse out which struggles were fallout from Charanpal’s death and which from Chrisjen’s infidelity. The answer was usually some combination of both. In the aftermath of their fight, Chrisjen had been a more attentive partner than she had been in years, maybe since before they’d been married. He’d basked in the attention, even as he’d known it couldn’t last. And over time, things returned to normal, for better and for worse. Work inevitably pulled Chrisjen away more and more, but they quickly fell back into their well-worn habits and patterns. 

When she came home from work late at night, exhausted and swearing, he was there with a stiff drink and a warm embrace. And when she came home long after he was asleep, smelling of sex and sweat, she took a shower and he welcomed her into bed without a word. 

Because as long as she came home again to him, he would be there waiting for her. 

  
  



End file.
